Supernatural vs Evil
by Yami Faerie
Summary: One-shot sequel to "Demon Blood", retelling of 2.03 "Bloodlust". Sam's bothered by hunting vampires, but Dean doesn't listen to him and Gordon overhears too much. Is Sam something that should be taken out like the vamps? Edited 11/16/10.


**Supernatural vs Evil**

**Note: This is a one-shot sequel to "Demon Blood", and third in this AU 'verse. Please read "Purpose" and "Demon Blood" first so things will make more sense.

* * *

**

Sam didn't like Montana. In fact, he'd willingly go so far as to say the place fucking _sucked_.

Gordon Walker had managed to creep Sam out from the moment they'd introduced themselves, but Dean, for some reason Sam couldn't quite fathom, was all buddy-buddy with the man, happily chatting about his best kills over the years in a manner that actually made Sam feel sick to his stomach. So, he decided to bail on the vampire-killing after-party and headed back to the motel, not wanting to hear another gruesome detail. Whereupon, after making a phone call, he'd subsequently been jumped by three vampires and taken to a farmhouse in the middle of nowhere.

"We don't drink human blood," Lenore told him calmly, and God, but Sam wanted out of this entire situation. He hadn't wanted to _be_ on this Hunt the moment he realized they were after a bunch of vampires. Dean had looked at him oddly when he suggested they leave and go find something else to Hunt.

"Why do you wanna bail?" he had asked, and Sam had huffed, not wanting to talk about this _at all_.

"Maybe it's because of the whole _drinking blood_ thing," he had finally said, and when Dean had continued to stare at him blankly, he'd had to work to not lash out at him for his idiocy. "Jesus, Dean, I suffered from a fucking bloodlust of my own!"

And _then_ Dean got it. "We can't just let them live," he'd said anyway, and then Sam got to watch him saw off a vampire's head like it was the easiest thing in the world to do, like he did this sort of thing every single fucking day.

"The cattle mutilations," he suddenly said, putting the pieces together. "But why are you even talking to me? I'm a Hunter, for Christ's sake!"

Lenore smiled sadly. "I have to believe that everyone can listen and change."

"That's great," Sam said sarcastically, "but there's no way in hell I could convince my brother or Gordon to leave you alone."

"Then we'll leave," Lenore said decisively. "You'll be taken back to your motel, and no harm will come to you, I promise."

The only reason Sam believed her was because he didn't feel all that different from the vampires holding him captive. Sure, he didn't need demon blood to survive, but it had changed him irrevocably, just as each of the vampires had been changed, as well. The bag was replaced on his head, and he was taken back to the vehicle that had delivered him to the farmhouse in the first place.

When he arrived back at the motel he walked into the room to see Dean discussing the nest with Gordon like it was something he did everyday. "Can I talk to you alone?" he asked his brother, clenching his left hand to stop the fine tremors that still ran through it more often than not since his recovery just over two weeks ago.

Dean followed him outside. "What's up?" he asked. "Where were you?"

"Dean, I…" Sam wasn't sure how to do this. "We can't go after these vampires."

Dean frowned. "Sam, where were you?" he asked again.

Sam turned away and ran a hand through his hair. "I was in the nest," he finally said.

"What? You found it?"

"No, man," Sam said, turning back to Dean, "they fuckin' found _me_. Knocked me out and took me right to it."

"Well," Dean said, looking bewildered, "how'd you get out, then? How many did you kill?"

"None, Dean," Sam said, "that's my point. They _let me go_."

Dean frowned and stared at Sam for a long moment. "Let you go," he echoed in that disbelieving tone that reminded Sam of the time when he was ten and had been told by Doug (one of Sam's many friends over the years that he was now sure had been possessed by a demon to influence his life in the direction Azazel the Yellow-Eyed Bastard wanted it to go) that dingo's purposely went out of their way to eat human babies. "Sam," Dean said, catching his attention again, "vampires don't just let you go."

"Well, I'm tellin' you, man," Sam replied, "that's exactly what they did."

Dean looked horribly confused now. "Well, where is it, then?"

"I don't know," Sam snapped, his nerves running ragged, "I was blindfolded."

"Well, you've gotta know _something_ about where it was," Dean persisted, and Sam had a strong desire to punch his older brother right in the nose.

"We went over that bridge outside of town," he finally answered and Dean immediately turned to head back into their room where Gordon was waiting. "Dean, wait, I really don't think we should go after them."

"Why not?" Dean asked, spinning back around. "This isn't because of some sudden empathy you've got for the damn things, is it? Cause it is _not_ the same."

"Isn't it?" Sam shot back. "Look, Dean, they're responsible for the cattle mutilations, and they don't drink human blood, they haven't for a long time."

Dean stared at him. "They tell you this?" Sam nodded. "Why the hell would you even _believe_ them?"

"Look at me, man," Sam said, spreading his arms out, "I don't have a scratch on me. Just a nice bruise in the shape of a telephone base."

Dean stared at Sam for another long moment. "No," he said, shaking his head disbelievingly, "no way. I don't know why they let you go, and I can't say I really care, but our job is to find 'em and _waste_ 'em." He turned away again.

"Why?" Sam asked, trying to ignore the sting of Dean's words. _He cares, I _know_ he does._ The thought wasn't as reassuring as he wanted it to be.

"What part of 'vampires' don't you understand, Sam?" Dean all but shouted, whirling back and looking ready to kill him. "If it's supernatural, we kill it. End of story, that's our job."

"Oh, right," said Sam sarcastically, "anything _supernatural_. Why don't you just put a gun to my head and take out one more thing, then?"

"What?" Dean's mouth actually fell open at this and he stiffened. It seemed an odd reaction, Sam noted before his brother went on to say, "Sam, you're _nothing_ like the things we hunt."

"Really?" Sam said. "You met that Thomas kid I saved, right?" Dean nodded curtly. "You must know how he reacted when he realized what they'd been doin' to me."

"Yeah," Dean said slowly, "but I made him swear not to tell a _soul_ about it."

"Exactly," said Sam, "because if _any_ other Hunter knew, they'd be after me in a heartbeat."

"I'd never let anyone kill you," Dean growled, his fists clenching.

"Why?" Sam asked. "Because we're brothers? What if I started playing for the other team? Would you kill me then?"

"No!" Dean shouted. "Do you know why? Cause I'd _never_ let that happen, Sam, _never_!"

Sam's shoulders slumped. "Our job is killing _evil_, Dean," he finally said. "If I'm not evil, then neither are these vampires. They aren't killing people."

"Of _course_ they're killing people," Dean said, that disbelieving look back on his face. "It's what they do, Sam," he continued, "they're all the same, OK? We have to exterminate every last one of 'em."

"No," Sam snapped, "I don't think so. Not this time."

"Sam," said Dean in a voice that meant he was seriously losing his patience, "Gordon's been tracking them for a year. He knows."

"Gordon?" Sam asked, clenching his own fists now.

"Yeah," Dean said.

"Dean, I called Ellen earlier," said Sam, "and she says Gordon's a good Hunter, but otherwise, he's bad news."

Sam had met Ellen and her daughter Jo a few days after their father had — he shied away from those thoughts, still unable to fully accept that John was in Hell. He had found Ellen Harvelle to be an exceptionally trustworthy woman, so after leaving Dean and Gordon in the bar, he had decided to call her before getting brained.

"You called Ellen?" Dean raised his eyebrows. "And I'm supposed to listen to her? You've only met her once, Sam, we barely know her. No thanks, I'll go with Gordon."

"Right," Sam said snidely, "because _Gordon's_ such an old friend. Don't you think I can see what this is about?"

Dean frowned. "What?"

"Gordon?" Sam sighed. "You want a substitute for _Dad_, Dean, but this guy? He's a poor one."

Dean's eyes flashed in anger. "I'm not even gonna go anywhere _near_ that one." He tried walking away again, but Sam had reached his limit.

"Don't act like you can just slap on some big, fake smile," he shouted, grabbing Dean's shoulder and pulling him back to face him. "I can see through it, Dean, I know how you feel! Don't you get it? Dad's dead! He went to _Hell_ for the both of us, and he left a hole, and it hurts so bad you can't take it, but you can't just fill it with whoever you want to! This is a fucking insult to his memory!"

The punch came out of nowhere. Sam stumbled away, clutching the left side of his face, and damn it all, but he _really_ wanted to hit Dean back, even though he knew that wasn't what John wanted of them. _"I need you boys to watch out for each other, keep each other safe."_ And that was the real issue here. They were supposed to watch out for each other, but the way Dean had been grieving, you'd have thought that it was _his_ father who was dead, not Sam's. Sam thought they'd made their peace with one another over this, but it looked like he was wrong.

"Hit me again if it'll make you feel better," he finally said, staring at Dean, "but it won't change anything."

Dean's eyes were dark and Sam almost thought he was gonna hit him again, even tensed up in preparation, but then Dean backed away.

"I'm going to that nest," he said, turning away once more. "You don't wanna tell me where it is? Fine. I'll find it myself."

Sam closed his eyes and swore under his breath. "Dean, wait," he called out, following him back into the room, only to discover Gordon was gone.

"You think he —?"

"Yeah," Dean said.

"Dean, we've gotta stop him."

"Really?" Dean's fist clenched and Sam worked to conceal his flinch. "I say we should be lending a hand."

"Can't you just give me the benefit of a doubt?" Sam asked. "Please, Dean, you owe me that much."

That's when they discovered Gordon had taken the Impala's keys, leaving Dean to hotwire the car, mumbling apologies as he did so. Sam told Dean everything he knew about the location of the nest, and then they were off.

When they arrived at the farmhouse, Sam was sickened by what they found.

"Hey guys," Gordon said almost cheerfully, "you made it, come on in."

"What's going on?" Dean asked, and Sam was glad to see he was a little hesitant about the state Lenore was in. There were various cuts of different lengths and depths all over her skin, and quite frankly, she looked like death warmed over, barely conscious as they entered the dining room she was tied up in.

"Oh, just poisoning Lenore here with some dead man's blood," Gordon answered easily, a knife in one firm hand.

Dean tried to talk to Gordon, he really did. Sadly, Sam soon discovered that not only did Gordon know of the vampire's alternate food source, but he _really _didn't give a fuck about it. Then he learned that Gordon's sister had been turned when the man was eighteen, and he had tracked her down and killed her along with the vampire that had turned her. The situation reminded Sam way too much of his own. Would Dean kill him someday if he couldn't control himself, control the demon blood addiction?

"In fact," Gordon said, his eyes flickering between the two brothers, "I'm surprised you haven't already taken Sam out, based on what I heard earlier."

And _that_ was the wrong thing to say. Sam watched as Dean's face contorted into intense anger and he raised his gun, his body language incredibly stiff. "Sam's just another psychic," he snarled, "not something supernatural that we kill."

"Then why was he saying otherwise?" Gordon asked, and Sam decided Gordon didn't just creep him out. The man fucking _terrified_ him. "What was that whole thing about playing for the other team?"

"Nothing," snapped Dean. "Sam was just being stupid. Now get those thoughts outta your head or I'll take 'em out myself."

Gordon snorted quietly, suspicion still rolling off him in waves that made Sam feel sick to his stomach. "Still doesn't change the fact that these things are _evil_, Dean. Lenore here?" He gestured with his knife. "She can't change her nature, and I'll prove it."

This led, unfortunately, to Sam's arm getting sliced open and held over Lenore's mouth while the knife in Gordon's hand was then held to his neck. Watching Lenore's fangs descend over her human-looking teeth as his blood dripped near her mouth was too much like how he had reacted the day John had made the deal. But then Lenore somehow resisted, the fangs receding back into her gums. "No," she gasped out, closing her eyes and turning her head away. "NO!"

Yep. Sam _hated_ Montana.

"Let go," he told Gordon, and when the knife didn't move away after five seconds, Sam decided he was done. He figured Dean knew about the super-strength thing, and yeah, he was taking a risk, but he'd had enough of this night.

Sam twisted the wrist holding the knife and bodily tossed Gordon away without touching more than the man's wrists. Gordon's back slammed into the wall and he stumbled but regained his footing, staring at Sam like he had never seen him before. Sam glared back, right hand clutching at the still-bleeding cut as the anger and suspicion _radiated_ off the older man before him.

"Sam," Dean said after a long and tense moment passed, and Sam could see a mixture of fear and anger brewing in his eyes. "Get Lenore outta here."

Sam nodded, untied Lenore's arms and legs, and silently picked up the tortured vampire, carrying her outside and making sure her nest got out safely. As he watched the group drive away, something suddenly tingled along the edge of his consciousness. Something that was sickeningly familiar.

Sam turned in the direction of the rising sun, eyes darting around almost wildly, but the whatever he'd felt was already gone. Again. This was the fourth time it had happened since the day John had walked out to his death. Sam hadn't told Dean that he'd sensed Azazel's presence and knew the moment the demon was gone also meant the man who had taught him how to fight and defend himself, who had loved him in his own, gruff way was gone forever. He knew Dean wouldn't want him to keep news like this a secret, but what if he wasn't really sensing demons? What if he was just being paranoid?

When he returned to the dining room, Gordon was tied to a chair, and both he and Dean looked like they'd had one hell of a fight.

Sam wasn't sorry to leave Gordon behind.

"Dean," he said as they drove away, "about what Gordon said —"

"I already told you," Dean cut him off, "I'm never gonna kill you Sam, so you can stop thinking about it."

"How can I think about anything else?" Sam asked. "Gordon heard enough, Dean. Hell, he'll probably do the job for you, first chance he gets!"

Dean slammed on the brakes and barely managed to steer the Impala to the side of the road. "The bastard only had suspicions, Sam," he said loudly, glaring at him. "It wasn't _me_ that fucking pulled a Hulk-strength move on him."

"Dean, I —"

"Shut up, Sam," Dean said, and Sam snapped his jaw closed. "You listen, and you listen good. _No one_ is taking you out, Sam. You're not evil, and you never _will be_. Do you remember why?"

Swallowing hard, Sam forced himself to meet those blazing green eyes with his own. "Because I have you," he said quietly, "and you'll never let anything bad happen to me."

"Exactly," Dean said, and his face softened. "I get that you're scared, Sammy, but you were a victim of Azazel's games. I know you, kiddo, and I _know_ you won't walk down that path. So stop worrying so damn much." He turned to the wheel and accelerated back onto the road. "We never shoulda come on this hunt," he added, "it screwed everything up."

Sam looked out the window as they left Red Lodge behind them. He couldn't help but notice the way Dean stiffened whenever the idea of killing Sam came up, and for the first time since John had left them for good, Sam began to wonder if there _was_ something Dean knew and wasn't telling him, something that interfered with his normally black-and-white view of the world.

If so, then he could only hope that Dean would tell him someday, before the burden became too much to handle.

* * *

**Parts of the conversations were taken from 2.02 "Bloodlust". I hope you enjoyed this one-shot sequel!**

**-Yami Faerie

* * *

**

_Edited 11/16/10_**  
**


End file.
